


What You See and What You Miss

by QuickWren



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-12-04 10:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11553546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickWren/pseuds/QuickWren
Summary: “So,” Flash prompted, “you're absolutely positive that you’ve never met Parker before, right?”“Uh, yea… pretty sure.” Harry hunched his shoulders. “Why do you keep asking that?”Flash rolled his eyes. “Peter has this dumb job where he runs stupid errands for Tony Stark.” Harry swallowed hard at the name. “He bragged for like, forever, that he’d met you because of it.” Flash shot Osborn a cocky grin. “But I knew he was a liar.”The other boy twitched, staring at his hands with unwarranted interest. “Yea, he must be.”“You're way too cool to bother with him,” Flash carried on. “Right, Spider-Man?”Harry clenched his fists tight. “Right.”----------Summary updated but the story remains the same.In which Peter is oblivious, MJ is not, Ned has a crush and Flash is... well, Flash.





	1. Good Catch, Milk Master

The echoing bang of something hard pounding metal shocked Peter's whole system into high alert. He wasn't in his suit. He wasn't on patrol. It took every ounce of his self control to fight the panic, to not scale the hallway wall. 

High school students didn't scale walls.

"I knew you were a fucking liar, Parker." Registering the voice as Flash's (non threat, harmless, negligible Flash), Peter released a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Flash's fist was shoved angrily into the locker beside him, the impact leaving a faint dent in the door.

"Ah... what?" Peter closed his locker slowly, glancing nervously at Ned. "Pretty sure I haven't said a single word to you all day, Flash."

Flash scowled and shoved an open palm into Peter's chest. Caught off guard, Peter stumbled backwards, knocking an unexpecting Betty Brant to the ground and sending her bookbag scattering. "Hey!" the girl called, but Flash was already storming off.

"You know what you did, Parker!"

Peter, frozen, stared after Flash's retreating form. Then, as the shock faded, he turned to help Betty to her feet.

Ned had already knelt beside her and began gathering all her books and papers. "Sorry about that." Ned shot her a sheepish grin, offering her an armful of her papers.

"Thanks Ned," she muttered, shoving the disheveled bundle into her bag before pacing away.

When Betty was out of earshot, Ned raised an eyebrow towards Peter. "What'd you do?"

"That's the thing." Peter ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I don't know."

\- - - - - - - - 

"Heads up!"

Peter barely had a chance to glance up from his English Lit worksheet before MJ tossed the carton of chocolate milk towards his head. Instinct kicked in and he snagged it from the air with his left hand.

"Good catch, Milk Master," MJ nodded towards him, setting her lunch tray down at the table across from him.

Peter grinned. Spider powers had some weird fringe benefits. For example, he was the only one of his friends that could manage to nimbly open the paper milk cartons without making a huge mess of the drinking spout. 

Ah, the life of a hero.

"Heads up!" Peter mimicked back at her, and mimed tossing the now-open milk back. MJ lowered her eyes, glaring as Peter slowly grinned. "Kidding, kidding." He rolled his eyes and handed it to her gently. 

MJ took a sip of her milk and flipped open her newest book. She nodded towards Peter's assignment. "You got that?" she asked, though she had already begun reading.

"Yea, no worries." Peter turned back to the question sheet as Ned came to sit at his left. 

Ever since May had found out about his double-life, she'd only permitted him to continue patrolling so long as all his homework was completed. And, given how hectic his schedule was right now, that meant Peter's lunch break had begun to double as an extra study hall.

A couple minutes passed in peace before MJ glanced over the top of her book, her gaze shifting to Ned. He was staring off into the distance, watching the group at the table across from them chatter. "You uh, you okay there?"

Ned started, his focus jumping back. "Yeah! Yeah, I just, uh," he fumbled with his words, and Peter looked up from his assignment. "I was just thinking that, you know, Flash sure has been hanging around the new kid a lot."

MJ lowered her book and raised her eyebrow further. 

"What, you didn't notice? I thought you were observant, MJ."

The girl shrugged. "I noticed."

Peter signed his name at the top of the page, then tucked the finished paper into his bag. "New kid?" he questioned, looking up to MJ for answers.

The girl sighed. "A freshman. He started last week. Apparently he's super smart or something."

"Huh." Peter followed Ned's gaze to where Flash and the new kid sat. When Flash caught him looking, Flash flipped him the bird.

\- - - - - - - - 

Two weeks later, they got confirmation that the new kid was, in fact, "super smart."

"Class," Mr. Jacobs stood before them at the front of the room, a bored expression dragging at the corner of his plump cheeks. “I’d like to introduce you to Harry Osborn.” The boy waved, and Peter frowned lightly. Where had he heard that name before? “Harry is a freshman who started here earlier this month. However, due to the accelerated program at his old school, he will be joining the sophomores in this Physics course.” Harry stood awkwardly in front of the board, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. When he made no move to introduce himself further, Mr. Jacobs sighed. “Take a seat, Osborn.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure!” Harry grinned at him, his hands fumbling at his sides, and moved to sit beside Flash. As he sat, Flash grabbed his shoulder and shook it, both boys grinning.

“Alright class, we will begin the Toothpick Bridge Building project today.” Mr. Jacobs plopped down tiredly into his chair. “Partner up and I’ll hand out supplies.”

“Peter.” He turned, and found MJ waiting at his side. “You’re my partner.”

Peter frowned. “But, Ned and I-”

“Trust me.” MJ tapped a finger to his chest. “Watch.”

She pointed to Flash and Harry, obviously set to be a pair. Then she motioned to Flash’s normal partner, Charles, who had snagged Chrisy up as his replacement. With Chrisy taken, her partner Betty was left to pick between Jason, who’d still not given up on getting a date with her even after she’d rejected him for homecoming, and…

“Hey Ned,” she said, rubbing her arm nervously as she approached him. “Would you maybe, I dunno, wanna partner with me?” 

There was a glean in Ned’s eyes, and his grin nearly reached his ears. “Sure! Should be fun!” There was a faint blush tainting his cheeks.

Peter blinked. Since when had Ned… even thought about Betty? He turned to MJ, his face scrunched up. “How did you…”

MJ smirked. “I told you. I’m observant.”

\- - - - - - - - 

That Saturday afternoon, MJ stood in an empty apartment hallway, biting her lip. Her phone screen read 4:15. She was supposed to be here at 4:00. So, as far as she was concerned, she was right on time.

MJ knocked on the door, hoisting her backpack up higher on her shoulder. It swung open, and May stared back at her, a startled expression popping onto her face. “Um…. hello. Can I help you?”

Leaning over slightly to peek around May, MJ squinted into the apartment. No one else was in sight. “Where’s Peter?”

“Uh, he’s out…. Running an errand for me.” May frowned, glancing MJ up and down. “Who are you?”

MJ righted herself. “His Physic’s partner. MJ. Uh… Michelle.” For the briefest moment, doubt flickered across her face. “He… hasn’t mentioned me?” Catching herself, she added, “He didn’t say I was coming?”

May fought to keep the knowing smile off her face. “Oh, that’s right. He told me this morning you were coming. I’m sorry, I guess I forgot.” She moved to let MJ inside, and as the girl crossed the threshold, the clattering of falling objects rang out from Peter’s room. Both women turned to peer down the hallway, then turned back to face each other.

“I…. guess he’s here after all.” May shrugged. “I’ll just go. And get him. Now.”

MJ nodded, her frown growing steadily, but moved to set up their toothpick bridge supplies on the kitchen table. She heard some terse whispering down the hallway, and some more rattling, before moments later she was met by Peter in the kitchen.

“Hey! You’re… you’re here!” Peter grinned at her. His face was red and sweaty and his hair was a damp mess, sticking up every which way around his face.

She snorted, fighting the urge to grin. What a weirdo. “This bridge isn’t going to build itself.”


	2. Not Actually, But You Know, Hypothetically

“Join the Decathlon team.”

Harry looked up at the sound of MJ’s voice, his shoulders tensing. He wavered above his bridge project, undecided on if he should answer her or place the toothpick he was holding. After a second more of nervous fumbling, Flash took the glue-covered toothpick from his hands, placing it on the bridge before the glue could dry. Harry blinked at him, then turned his wide eyes to MJ, his mouth slightly agape at the unexpected demand.

“What she means to say,” Peter said from beside her, nudging MJ’s shoulder with his own, “is that you seem like a really smart dude. And if you were interested in joining, we always need more really smart dudes on the Decathlon team.”

“Yea.” MJ shrugged. “Pretend I said that.”

“Besides,” Peter continued. “It’ll be fun. Right, Flash?”

The boy narrowed his eyes. “Well yea, it actually is pretty fun. Not that you’d know, Parker, since you always bail. But, I dunno Harry, you might be too busy for that.”

Mr. Jacobs coughed from the front of the room. Harry’s eyes flashed to the teacher, anxious, then back to Flash. “But, that’s how you made friends with everyone?”

Flash snorted. “Well, I wouldn’t say friends.” MJ’s eyes shifted to glare at Flash. The boy exhaled, his tone tight. “But yeah, we’re all on Decathlon together.”

“Then… then yea, I’ll find time!”

\- - - - - - - - 

Peter drummed his fingers on his desk, his face twisted in thought. “Ah, I don’t know MJ, I’m sorry. Is it beta radiation?”

“Neeeope.” MJ leaned against the table, resting her head in one of her hands. She pretended to examine the Decathlon question card in detail. “Wrong again. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Peter rolled his eyes. “What’s the answer?”

She huffed, turning away from him. “I'm not just going to tell you.” MJ glanced around the table, contemplating who to pick as her next target. “How about…. Harry.” The freshman nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. It was Monday, 4 days after MJ had asked him to join, and Harry’s first official practice. He was already a natural. MJ grinned and repeated the question. “When plutonium -239 decays to uranium -235, what type of radiation is emitted?”

Harry nodded again, looking from MJ to Flash. The older boy gave him a reassuring nod.

“It’s gotta be…” he counted on his fingers, his lips moving with unspoken words as he thought. “Its gotta be alpha, right?”

MJ smirked. “That's right.” She flipped the card down and reached for another. “Good job, Harry.”

Flash shook his shoulder, and Harry beamed like he was on top of the world. After a breathy chuckle, MJ opened her mouth to start the next question. “What is-” The sounds of a phone buzzing wildly interrupted her.

Peter grabbed for his pocket, fumbling with the device. “Sorry, I could have sworn I’d silenced-” He stared down at his screen, his brow furrowing in disbelief. “It’s… It’s Mr. Stark.”

“So,” MJ gestured at him numbly. “Go then.”

“Right. Uh, yea! Right!” Peter jumped from his seat, answering the phone as he stood. “Hi, Mr. Stark!”

Harry stared after him, frowning, as Peter ran from the room.

\- - - - - - - - 

“So, hypothetically, if a guy was getting a friendly dinner with a friendly female friend, that guy shouldn’t assume said friendly dinner was more than just…. friendship, right?” Ned twitched, glancing around the empty hallway like he was afraid he was being watched. 

The longer Peter stared at him, dumbstruck, the redder Ned’s face got. “Hypothetically,” Ned carried on. “Not actually, but you know, if it were a hypothetical, friendly-”

“Ned!” Peter bounced towards him, coming to his senses and shoving Ned playfully. “That’s awesome! When? Where? Is this…” Peter lowered his voice. “Is this with Betty?”

Ned swallowed hard. “Uh… I mean… it's hypothetical, so…”

“You losers swapping secrets?”

Her voice came from out of nowhere. Shocked, Peter nearly jumped onto the ceiling. Ned looked like he was going to puke.

“MJ!” The girl grinned as Peter shouted her name. “How…. where did you come from? How long have you…?”

“Been here a while,” she answered nonchalantly, her eyes unwavering from her open book. “I’m bored. My weekend is boring. It's Friday and yet here we are, bored, being boring.” She looked up, ever so slightly, from her reading. “You guys wanna binge watch some Netflix Saturday night?”

Peter felt his mouth go dry. Which was weird. Why was he being weird? He tried not to think about it. Instead, he replied, “Ye-yeah! Sounds fun!” MJ had never invited them over before.

He turned to Ned, and found his friend’s face cherry red. “Can’t.” Ned laughed uncomfortably, an anxious undertone bleeding into the sound. “I've actually… got plans.”

\- - - - - - - - 

Flash hooked his legs up over the back of Harry’s couch, kicking his shoes against the nicest upholstery he’d ever seen. He hung his head off the front. “You’re sure your dad’s not gonna care that I'm here?” he asked as he shoved a handful of Doritos into his mouth, the crumbs falling into his hair and into the cracks in the hardwood floor.

The sunset gleamed in through the glass wall, the cityscape visible from their seats in the penthouse apartment. Harry snorted and smiled sadly to himself. “He won't even notice.”

“His loss.” Flash reached a cheesy hand towards a Nintendo Switch controller. “I'm a pretty amazing guy.”

“Not amazing enough to race MarioKart while upside down.” Harry reached for his own controller, fumbling lightly as he tried to get his grip. Flash scoffed, but swung himself to sit upright.

After one very close race, with Flash proudly (loudly) claiming first place, the boys tossed their controller aside and reached for more chips. “So,” Flash prompted, “you're absolutely positive that you’ve never met Parker before, right?”

“Uh, yea… pretty sure.” Harry hunched his shoulders. “Why do you keep asking that?”

Flash rolled his eyes. “Peter has this dumb job where he runs stupid errands for Tony Stark.” Harry swallowed hard at the name. “He bragged for like, forever, that he’d met you because of it.” Flash shot Harry a cocky grin. “But I knew he was a fucking liar.”

The other boy twitched, staring at his hands with unwarranted interest. “Yea, he must be.”

“You're way too cool to bother with him,” Flash carried on. “Right, Spider-Man?”

Harry clenched his fists tight. “Right.”


	3. Oh.  Oh No.

A faint misting of snow was gathering on the rooftops of New York. Peter arched through the air and dropped his webbing. When he touched down, even his spider powers couldn’t keep him from slipping a couple inches on the ice. His backpack was tossed over one of his shoulders, and the unfamiliar weight of his spare clothes and gratuitous movie snacks were not helping his balance. 

He caught himself with a huff, using the railing on the edge of the building to steady himself. “Maybe I should walk the rest of the way,” he muttered out loud to no one in particular. 

“Your destination is approximately 16 minutes away by walking,” Karen chirped into his ear, “and only 4 minutes away by web.”

Peter contemplated that for a moment, before shaking the thought away. “16 minutes is fine. It’s not like I’m in a rush to get there. Or anything.” He cringed lightly beneath his mask. “It’s probably safer to get out of my suit soon anyways.”

“Your heart rate is elevated,” Karen reported indifferently. “Your increased adrenaline levels indicate a small but notable level of anxiety. If you foresee trouble, I recommend remaining in your suit.”

“Wha- adrenaline?” Peter frowned hard. “Your sensors must be busted, Karen. I’m just going to- to hang out. With a friend. Why would I be anxious?”

“My sensors are fully operational,” was Karen's response. Had Mr. Stark intentionally programmed her with the ability to sound smug?

\- - - - - - - - 

“Oh. Oh no. There’s two of them.”

Just inside the doorway, standing at an intimidating 4 feet tall, was a miniature version of MJ, glaring up at him with a strikingly familiar look of disdain. “Who are you?” she asked, her glare unfaltering.

“Uh, I’m Peter. I’m MJ’s friend.”

The girl snorted. “Why?”

Just then, an arm swooped her up from behind, and the girl screamed as she was hoisted up over MJ’s shoulder. “That’s enough out of you.” MJ rolled her eyes as the girl’s legs flailed against her chest. “Come on in, Peter. She doesn’t bite.”

Though her face was burried into MJ’s back, Peter could hear the girl scream, “Yes I do!”

Once Peter had managed to sidestep the flurry of flailing limbs blocking the door, MJ plopped her tiny doppleganger down. The entryway to the apartment was small, the white paint on the walls chipping from years of abuse, and the three of them had to squeeze together to all fit in. Peter dropped his bag into the corner and the floor creaked with the impact.

The girl pounded an angry fist into MJ’s side, which the older girl ignored. “Peter, this is my sister, Abigail. My Dad has to work so we…” MJ scowled at the wall. “...we have to watch her today.”

Peter blinked, dumbstruck. “We’re babysitting?

“Well, I'm forbidden by law to lock her outside.”

Peter remained frozen. “Is that why you invited me over?” 

MJ remained pointedly silent. 

Abi tugged at her sister’s sleeve, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I wanna watch Rogue One.”

That broke Peter’s trance. “Oh, yeah!” he exclaimed at precisely the same time MJ said, “Absolutely not.” Abi glanced between the two off them, uncertain.

MJ pressed her hands into her temples. “Peter. It’s rated PG-13. She’s 8.”

“Pleaseeeeeeeee,” Abi begged, shifting sad wide eyes between the two. “Pretty pretty please?” Peter himself bit his lip, trying not to look too eager.

MJ slumped all her weight against the wall, throwing her head back to release a heavy sigh. “Fine!”

\- - - - - - - - 

An hour into the movie, the three of them were crumpled up on the living room sofa. MJ had tossed on a baggy pair of sweatpants, Peter had eaten an entire bag of chips, and Abi had fallen asleep, head resting in her sister’s lap, her body rising gently with each soft breath.

“She’s not so scary when she’s like this,” Peter whispered and MJ rolled her eyes. She stood, lifting her sister with her, and paced from the room. Peter peered down the hallway, and moments later watched MJ return alone.

She collapsed back into the sofa. “I’m sorry.” She sat, eye closed, and pulled her knees up to her head. Peter opened his mouth to reply, but MJ carried on. “For not telling you yesterday that she’d be here. I should have said something. I know. I’m just…. I’m not good with her.” Her head slumped down further, a couple messy curls slipping from her loose bun. “Everytime I have to watch her, she screams and fights me. I can't handle her alone, I- I lose my mind. But I thought that, if you we're here, that would, I dunno, distract her?" MJ sighed into her sweatpants. "I didn't tell you cause I thought, if you knew, you wouldn’t come.”

“I would have come.” Her head tilted towards him, and he felt his throat get tight when their eyes met. “It’s okay if you need help, MJ. We’re friends.” A peculiar light flickered through her eyes at the word ‘friends’, and a slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Peter felt his face get hot, so he glanced away. "Besides, she's not so bad."

Rouge One played on before them. It was a good thing he’d seen it a dozen times before, because this time through, he just couldn’t focus. Everytime MJ took a breath beside him, his attention flitted away from the screen. 

When Rouge One ended, Netflix autostarted Pirates of the Caribbean, and neither teen made a move to stop it. Moments into Jack Sparrow’s opening theme, MJ slumped against his side, her mouth askew as she snored softly against his shoulder. He felt a shiver run through his skin at the contact, his stomach flipping unexpectedly. He glanced towards her, taking in the sight of her strewn hair and baggy t-shirt, and swallowed hard.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. 

Oh. Oh no. When had he let this happen?

\- - - - - - - - 

“Your parents were freaking out.”

Peter startled awake, twitching backwards in an instant. His neck ached and he recoiled away from the tiny face that was inexplicably inches from his own. Abi smirked at his reaction, then tossed his phone into his lap. “You’re welcome.” MJ stirred beside him, but her snoring went on.

Eyes and head still blurry with sleep, Peter fumbled with his phone. 11 missed calls. 4 unread texts. He groaned and opened his messages to May, then froze at the sight of an unfamiliar conversation.

It started out calm enough, just a few questions on where he was and when he’d be back. After an hour of no response, May had grown more frantic, making threats to call Mr. Stark or even the police. When she’d began to threaten to search for him herself, Peter scrolled down to find there was a response sent from his phone.

It was a picture, zoomed in close, of one of Abi’s dark eyebrows, her wide, rolled back eye, and her freckle-scattered nose. Beneath it was the caption, “He fell asleep.”

That picture was followed by another, one of Peter and MJ, with MJ resting against his arm, Peter’s face buried in her hair, both of them slumped uncomfortably into the couch, passed out.

Peter groaned, his face burning red, and went to clear the missed call notifications. The sound of his groan died, strangled of air, when he saw that two of them were from Tony Stark.

“No.” Peter flipped back to his texts messages and saw a conversation, identical to the one May had received, also sent to Tony. "No. No no no no no no."

He heard MJ snort beside him, and slowly turned to face her. Her makeup was smeared, and she shook her head slowly as she stretched. 

"Should have locked your phone."


	4. Like a Fish Needs a Bicycle

His ring finger tapped against the spine of his Biology textbox, keeping time as he silently mouthed out the words to the chapter he was reading. 

“The shapes of cells” - four beats of his finger

“are varied, with some” - five beats 

“such as parenchyma,” - six beats, 

“being equidimensional- ”

“Harry.” He froze, his finger suspended, twitching with the force of an uncompleted tap. The boy swallowed hard and brought his finger down, gripping his book tight to try and keep his hands from shaking. He closed the chapter, setting the textbook down on the crumpled bedsheet beside him.

“Dad.” Harry tried not to cringe away as his father came to sit beside him on his bed. “What do you- what are you- uh…. Why are you here?” It was late Sunday night. Harry had already cleaned the apartment, eaten his dinner, and finished his homework. Alone. He was used to being alone. 

The only time his father came to see him was when he wanted something.

“Why am I here?” Norman murmured, his voice smooth. “I live here. This is my apartment. Had you forgotten?”

“N-no! No, of course not.” Harry’s eyes went wide, and he turned his vision away, his stare focused on his clenched white knuckles. “I-I meant, what can I do for you, Father?”

Norman chuckled. “Not much, son. You’ve made that abundantly clear, time and time again.” Pausing for a moment, Norman cracked his knuckles, then continued. “I’ve come to talk.” Harry looked up slowly, his fingers twitching anxiously at his sides. “How’s school? Are you liking it at Midtown?” Norman’s voice turned to steel. “Have you… made any new friends?”

Harry flinched, then pushed himself out of his bed, pacing quickly to the other side of the room. “Yea, a few.” When he reached his desk, he paused, his fingers tracing the grain of the mahogany, sliding over the wood gloss. 

“A few.” Norman nodded, gesturing toward Harry with an open hand. “Just a few. Anyone in particular?” The man stood, the wrinkles of his face deepening as he scowled. “Anyone worth mentioning?”

“I’m working on it.” It took all of Harry’s nerves to whisper the response.

“Work. Harder.”

An exasperated huff escaped Harry before he could stop himself. “I- I’m weird, Dad. Okay?” His shoulders tensed up as Norman turned to sneer at him. “I- I don’t think many people like me.”

“Ohhhhh,” Norman crooned, and he paced a step closer to his son. “Ohhhh, oh no, they don’t like you?” He scoffed, and Harry took a step back. “Everyone likes something, boy. Fame. Power. Money.” Norman spit the words, like they tasted foul on his tongue. “And you are an Osborn. You have all those things.” He stepped closer again. “Find out which one Stark’s little protégé wants, and give it to him. Pay him. Lie to him. I don’t care what you do. All I care about is getting access to Stark’s tower.” Norman took another step, now inches from his son, bearing down at him as Harry tried to look away. “And you’re going to get it for me. Am I understood?”

Try as he might, Harry couldn’t keep his voice from breaking. “Yes, sir.”

Norman stared at his son, watching him shake a moment long, before scoffing again and marching from the room. 

“Don’t make me regret this, boy.”

\- - - - - - - - 

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

Peter raised an eyebrow, smirking at MJ, before nodding discreetly towards their friend. Ned sat at the lunch table, to Peter’s left, and hadn’t said a single word to either of them the entire lunch period. Face pink and eyes shining, he scrolled through his text messages, fingers tapping against his phone screen as fast as he could manage. As soon as the typing stopped, he received another message.

Ping.

“So,” MJ tossed Peter her milk carton, “who you texting, Ned?”

“No one.” Ned’s attention remained glued to his phone, fingers still tapping away.

She turned her attention back to Peter, who handed MJ her opened milk carton before he nodded his head in the other direction. Two tables away, completely uninterested in her friends’ conversation, sat an engrossed Betty Brant. Her face was inches from her phone, the light of the screen etching shadows across her soft cheekbones. 

“Does this mean you guys are dating now?” Peter asked, nudging his friend with his shoulder.

Ned’s face deepened a shade, though he didn’t look up. “One date doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“So it was a date!” Peter felt his smirk pulling higher up his face, his grin widening.

MJ rolled her eyes. “The social construct of dating is yet another method men use to disempower women by forcing us into stereotypical gender roles.” Peter’s head snapped towards her, and she watched the smile fall from his face. She lowered an eyebrow at him. “It also promotes the archaic belief that women can be the property of a man.”

It felt like he’d taken a brick to the skull. “MJ,” he asked, trying to keep from sounding too bewildered. “Do you... not believe in dating?”

She snorted out a laugh. “I didn’t say that. I just don't like the concept of traditional courtship." When Peter's frown deepened, MJ's lips twitched like she was fighting a smile. "All I’m saying is… well… A women needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.”

For the first time that lunch hour, Ned looked away from his phone. “Why does a fish need a bicycle?”

“It doesn’t.” MJ picked up her book, pulling it up over her face, but Peter could make out that she was grinning by the curve of her cheeks. 

Was she… messing with him?

He opened his mouth, fumbled with his words, then snapped his jaw shut. Inhaling again, Peter attempted to speak, but stopped at the unexpected clattering at the table beside him. When he glanced over, he saw Harry looking at him, his fingers twitching against his lunch tray.

“Uh. Hey.” Harry bit his lip, glancing between the three of them nervously. “Is it… would it be alright if I sat here? Flash has lunch detention and I don’t really know anyone so I was hoping… maybe…”

Peter motioned to Ned, whose nose was once again inches from his phone screen, and MJ, who was newly buried in her book, and shrugged. “Well, I can’t promise any sort of conversation from these two, but you’re more than welcome to keep me company.”

“Really?” A smile, wary, darted at the corner of Harry’s lips. “That would be…. That would be so awesome.” He slide into the bench beside him, then scoop his soggy slice of lunchroom pizza up off his tray. “So, uh, how was, uh, your weekend?”

“Uhhh,” Peter glanced at MJ, but the girl remained disinterested. “Well, I worked Saturday morning. Then MJ and I babysat her sister Saturday night. On Sunday, my aunt made me stay home and finish all my homework. So, it wasn't really that exciting.” Peter shrugged, then motioned awkwardly towards Harry. “How... about you?”

The other boy froze, his mouth full of pizza, then blinked and swallowed. He chuckled, wiping pizza sauce off his chin, and shook his head. “I played video games, mostly.” Peter nodded, opening his mouth to prompt again, but Harry cut him off. “What’s your job? I- I mean, what do you do? What were you doing?”

“Oh, it’s actually an internship. I work at Stark Industries. It’s unpaid but, you know, it looks really good on college applications so-”

“Seriously?” Harry’s hands went to his mouth, his eyes wide with excitement, and he rested his elbows on the table. “That sounds awesome! What are you working on?”

“Ahhh,” Peter glanced over his shoulder at Ned, but his friend wasn’t listening. “It’s nothing interesting, really. I’m not really supposed to talk about it.” 

Harry’s shoulders slumped, his hands falling to the table as a disappointed groan escaped him. “Right. Of course. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Right.” He twiddled with the crust of his pizza, eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, wait, come on, I didn’t mean to… let you down.” Harry glanced up, his face softening at the unexpected kindness. Peter shrugged. “I guess I’ve seen a couple cool things.”

Harry inhaled hard, sucking on his bottom lip. “Have you met Iron Man?!” Before Peter could answer, Harry dropped his voice to a whisper. “Have you met Spider-Man?”

Though she didn’t look up, MJ’s hand stalled, no longer moving to turn the page. “How did you…” Peter shifted his gaze around the lunchroom, before focusing in on Harry again. “Who told you that? Was it Flash? It’s not true. I don’t know Spider-Man at all.”

“Oh.” Harry leaned away, looking dejected again. Peter sighed. He ran his hand through his hair, cringing, and reached for his milk carton.

“Well, do you want to know a secret?” Harry leaned in once again, his voice falling back down into a whisper. This time, MJ did look up. Peter raised an eyebrow, taking a swig of his chocolate milk. 

Harry grinned. “I’m Spider-Man.”

Peter coughed, the force sending milk squirting from his nose.


	5. We Watch Him and We Wait

“Hey, can we talk?” Peter reached out and gripped Harry’s upper arm, startling the freshmen. When Harry jerked back, he bumped against a couple of upperclassmen guys, earning him some annoyed glares.

Peter looked at the older boys, shrugging as they rolled their eyes and turned away. Then, he turned back to Harry. “Somewhere a little less crowded, maybe?” Harry blinked at him, his eyes flicking nervously to where Peter was still gripping his arm. Peter released him, motioning at the bustling school grounds. The final bell had rung just moments ago, and the area was still full of students. A group of girls were sitting beneath the bleachers, whispering amongst themselves. A few dozen kids were still meandering out of the front doors. Peter narrowed his eyes at Harry. “Somewhere more private?”

“Uh…” Harry’s forehead wrinkled. “Why?”

Peter bit his lip, trying hard to keep his eyes from narrowing further with disbelief. “We need to talk.” Harry took a step back. “About lunch?”

“Lunch?” Harry echoed, and then realization struck. “Oh! Lunch. Yeah!” He grinned, his foot bouncing excitedly at his side. “Yea, of course. Let’s talk. I can tell you anything you want to know.”

Peter hummed in agreement. “Yep, I’m sure you can. Come on.” 

They paced over to the side of the building, still within sight of the front of the school, but well out of earshot of the kids filling out the door. Harry leaned against the wall, a smug smirk twitching at his lips. “So, Peter, what can I do for you?”

“Stop telling people you’re Spider-Man.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“Stop telling people you’re Spider-Man,” Peter deadpanned again. “It’s dangerous.” Harry stared on, dumbstruck. “You barely know me and you told me that. What if the wrong person hears? You’ll get hurt.”

Harry’s mouth parted, and his shoulders slumped against the wall. “No…. no I won’t. It’s fine.”

“Fine?” Peter felt his shoulders tense up. “You don’t know who might hear you say that. What if… what if the wrong student heard you?” 

“I’m not really worried about any of the students here.” Harry’s lips pulled tight and he glanced around. “No one’s been particularly mean or threatening or anything. Why would they be?”

“You don’t know anyone here, Harry. You’ve been here for what, a month?” Harry shrugged slightly. Peter carried on. “Sure, maybe the students are fine. But, you know, what if someone tell someone who isn’t fine.” Harry’s fingers twitched nervously, but he didn’t look particularly convinced. “What if they…” Peter gestured numbly towards the sky, “what if a student has a dangerous family that… that robs banks or…. sells intergalactic weapons to criminals throughout New York? What if Spider-Man has stopped them and they decided to target you as revenge? What then?”

Harry’s head tilted at him, his face scrunched in disbelief. “That’s never going to happen.”

“Yes! It could!” Peter fought the urge to groan. He brought his hands to his face, slamming his palm into his forehead. “It definitely could.”

Harry’s hands were shaking, but he righted his shoulders and forced himself to smile. “Calm down, Peter. I can handle it.” The boy winked, the motion awkward and slow and uncertain. 

“You cannot handle it. You’re not Spider-Man,” Peter spat, his jaw clenching. “Mr. Stark made the suit. Why would he just give it to some kid?”

“I….” Harry faltered, his face draining of color. “I… I’m not just some kid.” Harry shifted uncomfortably, and Peter waited silently for him to continue. “I… My dad. My dad helped Mr. Stark design it. That’s why. That’s why I… get to wear it….”

“Your….. Dad? Made the suit?” Peter’s head rolled back, and he let out a long, exasperated sigh. He ran both his hands through his hair, shaking his head lightly, then tilted his head forward again to examine Harry. 

“Harry. You’re going to get hurt.”

“I can take care of myself!” Harry snapped. “I-”

“Fine!” Peter cut him off. “Fine, Spider-Man, you can take care of yourself. What about the people you’ve told? Can they take care of themselves?” Harry felt his argument die on his tongue. “I’m sure you’ve told Flash, right?” Harry’s twitching fingers fell still. “Do you trust him to keep his mouth shut forever? What if he tells the wrong person?”

Harry’s eyes widened.

Peter carried on. “What if one of your friends tells someone, and your enemies target them to get back at you?”

“I….” The color drained from Harry’s face. “That wouldn’t happen.” His voice grew quiet. “Right?”

“You don’t know that.” Peter’s fist clenched at his side.

Harry pushed himself off the wall. “I… I need to go.”

\- - - - - - - - 

“And then- then he told me his Dad helped design the suit!” Peter paced along the ceiling of his bedroom, his hair dangling off his forehead, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. Ned sat cross-legged on his bottom bunk, his computer resting in his lap. “Like, what? How am I even supposed to respond to that?” Peter turned on his heel and started walking the other direction, sidestepping the light. Ned tapped a couple lines on his keyboard. “That suit is practically as advanced as Mr. Stark’s Iron Man suit. It’d take some sort of insane technological manufacturing to-”

“Peter,” Ned muttered, flipping his laptop screen around. 

A bright green logo flashed across the screen. “Oscorp.” Peter read, frowning. He flipped down off the ceiling, landing with a light thud. “What’s that?”

Ned flipped his screen back around. “Oscorp is a major weapons manufacturer. They used to be Stark Industries main competitor, but now that Mr. Stark is out of the arms business, they’ve cornered the market on advanced military tech.”

“Ok.” Peter slid onto the bed, leaning over Ned’s shoulder so he could also read his screen. “And?”

Ned clicked open a link, and a picture of a man with salt-and-peppered hair and heavy set eyes loaded, his face grinning menacingly back at them. “And that,” Ned motioned, “is Norman Osborn. He owns Oscorp and he has one son.”

“No. You’re not serious.” Peter looked up from the screen, searching Ned’s face. “You’re shitting me.”

Ned shook his head and scrolled further down the page. A new image appear, of Norman at the opening of Oscorp tower. He was smirking as he cut the red tape. Beneath his other arm, wearing a suit far too large, was an hunched over Harry.

Peter fell backwards, collapsing onto his bed. “Great. That’s great. What do I do?”

“What do you mean?” Ned closed his laptop and turned to watch his friend.

Peter threw his hands in the air. “I mean, what do I do? People are going to believe him, Ned! People might actually think his dad built him the suit. He might actually get hurt.”

“Might,” Ned repeated. “Might not.” Peter sat up. “So far, he’s only told high school kids.” Ned shrugged. “He’s probably okay for now. It’s not very likely that anyone at school will hurt him. You think you scared him today?”

Peter nodded, grimacing. “I think so.”

Ned nodded too. “Then for now, I guess we watch him and we wait.”

\- - - - - - - - 

“This. Is. Awesome.” Flash darted around each display, leaning over the railing to observe each casing with detail.

“Careful.” Harry followed a step behind him. “Don’t touch anything. I don’t know what all of it is.” 

“Right, right.” The other boy pushed himself off the railing, knocking shoulders with Harry. “Of course. This is just so….” Flash grinned, and Harry grinned back at him, “so badass! Oh,” Flash darted off to another display, his footsteps echoing off of the steel floor. “What’s this?”

Within the case was a mannequin clad in a skintight green suit. Tiny wires etched across it, like sinew and veins, and a tiny green “OSCORP” was embroidered across the left breast. Beneath the case, a nondescript silver plaque read “BIOSUIT”.

“It’s…. A prototype.” Flash looked away from the suit, his eyes gleaming. “For my Spider-Man suit. It’s one of the first versions my dad ever made.”

“That. Is. Sick.” Flash reached out a hand to touch the case, but caught himself and pulled back. “Could I wear this? I could be the… the Mantis Man! The Goblin! The Green God!”

Harry inhaled through his teeth. “Uhhh… no. It’s…. Faulty. Not safe.” His eyes shifted away. “Besides, I don’t want to drag you into danger with me or anything. I just… want to find you something you can use to protect yourself.”

“Right, I know, but,” Flash pushed off the railing, jogging past Harry so he could observe another display. “Could you imagine? Us tag-teaming all the bad guys? We’d never lose!”

Harry smiled but shook his head. “Self defense first, Flash. Hero training later.” 

Flash grinned wider, nodding vigorously. “Whatever you say, Spider-Man.” He leaned over the next railing, motioning towards the display before them. “What’s this?”

The display consist of a table, waist high, and a small capped vial. Within the vial was a thick black liquid, dark as motor oil, shining from the overhead lights. The plaque beneath it read “SYMBIOTE”.

Harry stared at it, his brow furrowing, but when Flash’s face snapped towards him, he forced a smile. “It…. is… uh…. Well, an alien…. Spit it at me?” Despite his best efforts, Harry’s voice rose at the end.

“Ohhhhh, sick. Venom!” Flash reached forward, his fingers centimeters from the vial. 

“What,” a voice boomed, echoing off the metallic walls, “do you think you’re doing here?” Flash stumbled forward, his fingers brushing the glass vial, ever so lightly. Harry felt a heavy lump form in his throat. He turned, slowly, dread pulling in his stomach.

“Father.” Norman Osborn stood above them, glaring down from the balcony overlooking the display room. “I… I can explain.”

“Get. Out,” the older man spat.

Harry swallowed hard. “Yes sir.” Flash stared down at his feet, his eyes wide. Both boys scurried towards the exit. 

Flash rubbed his fingers, ignoring the slight aching in his hand.

Neither boy noticed the ink black trace of Flash’s fingerprints, etched on the wall of the symbiote vial.

\- - - - - - - - 

Peter startled awake, sitting up so fast his head smacked against the top of his bunk bed. His phone rang again.

“Ow…..” He rubbed his head, then looked around, trying to locate his phone. It rang once more, and he found that he’d fallen asleep with it next to him on his pillow.

He grabbed the device, blinking his tired eyes, and read the screen. The name “Michelle” flashed bright in the darkness, and the clock read a little after midnight. He groaned and swiped the screen open. “Hello?”

“Peter?” The voice on the other end cracked, heavy with the sound of tears. All traces of sleep left him.

“MJ? Are you okay?”

“I… it’s Abi. We… had a fight. She ran off.” The girl sniffed, and Peter could hear her choke back a sob. “I’ve been searching but Peter… it’s been two hours. It’s dark and... I can’t find her.” Peter rolled out of bed, whipping his t-shirt off over his head. “Peter, I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry, MJ.” Peter propped his phone up to his ear using his shoulder. He shoved a set of clothes into his backpack, then zipped it up. “We’ll find her. I’m on my way.” 

He set the phone down and reached for his Spider-Man suit.


	6. She Said You Help People

“Karen,” he shouted, the air rushing past him as he twisted in the air. “If I give you a name, can you track a cell phone?”

“It is likely the phone will have GPS capabilities. What is the name?”

“Abigail Jones”

There was a pause, then Karen replied, “There are 23 phones registered to Abigail Jones’ in the New York area. Can you delimit your search?”

Peter groaned. “I dunno Karen, she's 8!”

“There are no phones registered to any Abigail Jones born 8 years ago.”

Peter’s fists clenched. “Right. Of course not. I'm an idiot.” He huffed, swinging to a stop on top of a nearby high-rise. “Can you look up the birth certificate of every Abigail Jone born in New York about 8 years ago?”

“There are 6,” Karen chimed back. “Only 1 is registered to a hospital in Queens.”

“Do that one.” Peter paced to the other side of the building. “Who’s the father listed as?”

“Jonathan Jones.”

“Search for phones registered to him. Eliminate any currently located at MJ’s house.” Peter paced back to the other side of the roof. 

“There are two available signals. One is 1.1 miles away, and the other is 4.3 miles away.”

Peter took off running as the maps flashed onto his display. “Guide me to the closer one,” he shouted as he pushed off the building, into the open air.

He shot the web, his arm pulling tight as he swung. “You'll arrive in 7 minutes” Karen replied as he arched off into the night.

\- - - - - - - -

“The signal is 50 feet to your left,” Karen directed, and Peter shifted his weight to the right. He swung wide, releasing the web so he could come sliding to a halt on a nearby balcony. From the alley below, he could hear the soft sound of hushed sobs.

“Abi?” he called out, dropping onto the pavement. “Are are there? Are you okay?” 

He heard the whimpering cut off in a sharp hiccup, and followed the sound of shuffling behind a trash can. There, muddied, frazzled and tear streaked, was Abbi, sitting in a tight ball curled in around herself. Her arms were tucked around her legs, and her face ducked behind her knees. When she saw Peter, her eyes grew wide in shock.

“Hey, shhh… you’re okay,” Peter murmured, keeping his voice low. “I’m Spider-Man. I’m one of the good guys. Do you... know who I am?” 

The girl hiccuped again, nodding as she pushed at the tears on her face. “My,” another hiccup, “My sister. She said yo-you help people.”

“Yea,” Peter agreed with a soft nod. He sat himself down in the alley beside her. “I help people. If you want, I could help you?”

Abi nodded vigorously, tears starting to once again roll down her cheeks. “I- I don’t know where I am, or how t-to get home.” She swallowed hard, pushing at her wet face with muddied palms. “I got lost and started running and it was so dark, I fell and I dropped my phone.” Her chest started shaking again and she buried her face in her knees. Dejectedly, she whispered, “My dad is going to kill me.”

“Could I see your phone?” Since he followed the GPS signal to her, Peter suspected the phone was less ruined then the Abi thought. Hunching her shoulders, Abbi thrust the electronic towards him.

He took it gingerly, examining the edges and screen. Pressing the power button caused the screen to light up, garbled and cracked, but overall the phone was mostly intact.

“You know what?” Peter muttered, turning to Abi once more. “This would be nothing for Tony Stark to fix.” The girl looked up, her wet eyed wide. “I could call in a superhero favor and get him to look at it. Then your dad won’t be so mad.”

Abi’s face pulled tight, the tears welling again. “Re-really? Y-you can? You w-would?”

“Of course,” Peter agreed. A flurry of curly hair was thrust into his face as he was met with an abrupt hug. He blinked, shocked, but wrapped his arms around her. Her tiny fists dug into his back. 

He held her for a moment as she sobbed once more, her tears soaking into his suit.

Once she’d calmed again, Abi pulled herself back. She pushed her sleeve across her nose, smearing streaks of dirt across her freckles. After a few shaky breathes, she asked in a tiny voice, “Can you help me get home?”

Peter chuckled and stood, reaching out a hand for her. “Absolutely. I’m sure your father is really worried.” 

Abi took his hand and pulled herself to her feet. However, when she went to put her weight on her left leg, she stumbled. A sharp yelp escaped her and she lurched against the trash can beside her. “My…. my foot…” she hissed. Supporting her weight on the can, she raised her left leg lightly.

Peter kneeled down to observe the injury. It was twisted and swollen, but there was no trace of punctured flesh or blood. “You must have sprained it when you fell.” Abi gave a soft whimper, and Peter sighed. “I’m going to make you a brace out of web, but since I can’t tell of it’s broken, I don’t think you should walk on it. Would you feel comfortable with me carrying you?”

Abi looked away, frowning, but nodded. “I just want to go home.”

“Alright, then. Let’s get you home.” He quickly wrapped her leg in web, then gently lifted her into his arms. Though it would have been faster to web sling back, Peter decided to walk her home. He didn’t want to stress her out anymore.

\- - - - - - - -

One mile and 30 minutes later, Peter found himself standing outside MJ’s complex. Abi, exhausted by the late hour and her ordeal, was sleeping in his arms.

Using his elbow, Peter pressed the com button for MJ’s apartment. After a brief pause, the door buzzed and clicked open.

MJ met him at the top of the stairs, dark eyed and frantic. “Oh, thank God,” she exhaled, her voice cracking, and she rushed forward to take her sister from his arms. “I was so scared.” He followed her back into the apartment.

As she closed the door, MJ whispered, “Is she alright?”

Peter nodded. “She got lost and tripped. I think she has a sprained ankle but other than that, she should be okay.”

Tears pooled at the base of MJ’s eyes. “Oh, thank God, thank God,” she murmured again, running a hand against her sister’s hair. The little girl gave a sleepy hum in response.

“Oh,” Peter caught himself. He reached into the pocket of his suit and produced Abi’s phone. “She also dropped this. I, uh, told her I would get Mr. Stark to fix it.”

Despite her watery eyes, MJ couldn’t help but smirk. “Of course you did.” 

Peter chuckled in response and shrugged. Then he made to leave. “Alright,” he said as he turned towards the door. “I should get going. It’s late, and you both should get some sleep.” MJ nodded softly in agreement.

As he was moving through the door, he heard MJ whisper his name from behind. “Peter?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

MJ swallowed. “Thank you.”

\- - - - - - - -

Tired and numb, Peter crawled through his bedroom window and collapsed into bed. He closed his eyes and inhaled deep. Slowly, he let the breath go, feeling his muscles relax.

It was then, as he was about to fade into sleep, that he realized that MJ had just called him by his first name, even though he had been in his Spider-Man suit the entire time.

“Shit.”


End file.
